Dastardly Saboteur

when a crap driver gets behind the wheel

So I booked an acting job. To be more specific, I booked 4 days on a new TV show that’s part of a large and popular franchise. It’s a big deal for me - personally and professionally. On the personal side, almost 3 years have passed since I booked a TV or movie gig. The road to this job has been pretty painful at times. Long ago I stupidly committed myself to this vocation so I can’t say I was close to quitting. But I would say I was close to hopelessness. I couldn’t see anything beyond countless, and I mean countless, auditions that go nowhere. All I saw was a lifetime of hearing nothing, no acknowledgment of my skills or talent or drive or effort or personhood or existence. It felt like a slow deadening of my innards. Dramatic, I know. But years-long stretches of unemployment will make a person dramatic.

On the professional side, this is one of the biggest things I’ve booked. It has name recognition. It’s the most time I’ve spent on set. It’ll likely be the most screen time I’ve ever had. For the first time I’m on a weekly contract, as opposed to a daily one (finally not just a dreaded day player!). Overall this is a big win in the career department. Not to mention what this’ll add to the reel and the resume.

And yet! At every corner it seems I minimize or downplay the significance. I’ve told very few people about this gig. The majority of those were out of necessity for arranging my life and schedule. When I have told people about it, I find myself immediately following up with “It’s not a big role” or “I don’t do a lot in the episode” or “It’s only a few scenes.” There’s sarcasm and humor that quickly shields me and pivots the conversation. I find the fastest route out of there and onto safer territory.

There’s a level of disgust I have with myself when I jump into this mode. It feels gross and immature, like I’m not as evolved as I believe myself to be. On one hand, my actions might seem like faux modesty. On the other, simple ingratitude. In either case, that’s not an accurate reflection of what I’m feeling. In those moments I’m not standing in the truth, which is this is a big fucking deal for me.

Why do I do this? It’s a pattern that’s developed over the years whose origin I can’t exactly pinpoint. Have I done this for every acting gig? What about nonprofessional wins? Do I downplay and diminish those too? Have I always crapped over my successes?

The more I dig the more I realize that the root of it all is unsurprisingly - like unsurprising to the point of utter boredom - is fear. That darn fear seems to be the cause of so much consternation in my life. Whenever my actions or words compromise my integrity, where my actions don’t align with my beliefs, I can almost always count on fear being the driving force. He likes to get behind the wheel and, honestly, he’s a crap driver.

The fears lying just underneath my faux-modesty-ingratitude-fake-humility-downplaying-bullshit are silly when I put them on paper. They’re just baby ones really. What if people laugh at the amount of screen time I get? What if they cut me from the episode completely? What if the director uses my worst takes? What if everyone thinks I’m a shit actor? What if I am a shit actor?

Underneath those surface fears are some deeper ones though, as is often the case. There are maybe a handful of ‘big’ fears, real ones, and everything else is just a quirky permutation. The big fear, the big Scary buried deep and pulling all the strings, is vulnerability.

I think it takes bucketloads of vulnerability to stand proud in accomplishment and success. All those nerve endings are exposed when simply saying that, yes, I am finally living the life I’ve been working toward for 15 years. Things are happening. It’s taken an eternity and still feels slow but it’s happening. Of course, it’s vulnerable to want something at all because there’s usually a net of heartbreak to catch us if we don’t get it. Perhaps downplaying our achievements is a mechanism for protection, a way to brace us for the possible impact if everything falls apart.

The irony here is that if everything does fall apart, if the director uses my worst takes and I have :03 seconds of screen time and I really am a shit actor, the pain will come for me regardless of whatever emotional padding and safeguarding I might have done in advance. So not only will I need to lick my wounds but I won’t have even enjoyed the ride.

Not every PDW needs a lesson but this week I just can’t help myself. It’s a lesson for me as much as it might be for you -

Love something. Say that you love it. Open your arms wide to the infinite possibilities resulting from that love. Let abundance happen when it happens. Keep your heart soft and ready for whatever joy or pain comes from your love. Stand upright and proud in that love. Speak it. Give it voice.

Because the last thing the world needs right now is small love or quiet love or half-assed love or unspoken love or diluted love or padded love or conditional love or guarded love. The only thing our fragile species needs now is big, loud, bold, honest, awkward, brave, brilliant, vulnerable, shiny love. Nothing less will do.